A Place in Your Soul
by Einna Dreamer
Summary: For ordinary humans, the afterlife was a relatively simple matter; you went there, existed for your allotted time and then had your spirit particles recycled. For witches and wizards however, things weren't quite that simple.
1. Chapter 1

A Place in Your Soul

_**Summary:**_ For ordinary humans, afterlife was a relatively simple matter; you went there, existed there for your allotted time and then had your spirit particles recycled, much like the makeup of the physical body is recycled after death. For witches and wizards, however, things weren't quite that simple.

_**Additional notes:**_ This story follows the post-death stories of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville. It mostly takes place in the inner world of their respective wielder and it will therefore likely take a while to realize whose zanpakuto each of them are. This is especially true as I opted for zanpakuto whose spirits are not shown in canon. In other words, they are zanpakuto that we likely know little about.

**Chapter One: In Which Hermione Dies and is Reborn**

For ordinary humans the afterlife was a relatively simple matter; it was well known among the dead that you ended up a place called Soul Society, in the larger section of it named the Rukongai. There, most lived out their afterlife in relative peace. The only interruption to this peace was the appearance of another type of human soul, the kind that had not been able to move on in peace and thus become a greedy, voracious monster known as a hollow.

Otherwise, the main differences between life and the afterlife was the lack of technology and the fact that they didn't need to eat. At least, for most people in rukongai this was the undisputed truth. There were in fact a group of people that needed to eat, and they often went on to become the protectors and peacekeepers of the afterlife; they were the people with special spiritual strength, the only ones capable of fighting the hollows successfully and the ones who helped with the passing – they were the shinigami; past, present and future.

What most people in rukongai either didn't know or else didn't particularly care for was the shinigami were joined with an invisible partner, unique to each shinigami. This partner served as their weapon, as the medium and amplifier for their power and, in some cases, as the advisor and/or friend with the most intimate knowledge of the shinigami.

But where did these zanpakuto come from then? Well, I have only told you what happens to the unremarkable, ordinary human, haven't I? And for there to be something called "ordinary humans" there has to be a kind of human that isn't included in that group. These not-so-ordinary humans called themselves "magical". This really referred to them having been born with a special kind of energy, one that allowed them to do incredible things in life and one that had also sealed their fate after they died.

The passing for a witch or wizard, unlike the passing of an ordinary soul, required no help from shinigami. They also weren't in danger of turning into hollows if they lingered, but that is a subject for another time. So, instead of waiting for the guardians of the afterlife to appear, the power inside the witch or wizard would take hold and send them over all on its own. The problem with this was that, while the power undoubtedly kept all the spirit particles together, the specific makeup could change drastically. Another hazard of this method was that the spirit arriving in the afterlife was in such an unstable state that it couldn't remain as an independent being. Thus the spirit had to latch onto another soul, one that could house it properly without getting hurt and form a symbiotic co-existence…

…-

Hermione was the first one of them to die. At the age of 49 she came down with a chronic disease. Thankfully it was rare (she was one of 14 or 15 known cases in Brittan), but that also meant that there had been no cure. All that could be done was treat the symptoms to the best of their abilities, which was just barely enough to lead a somewhat normal life.

She finally passed away two years after getting the diagnosis and the funeral was rather spectacular. Hermione was loved by many, respected by several more and known by most of magical Brittan – not least of her campaigns to bring equal rights to werewolves, house-elves and several other groups. Her hard work had brought about several changes in the law during the few years she had been active and a lot of fine things were said about her. Had she been present to hear them, she would have undoubtedly have been touched by both what was said and the sincerity with which it was said.

Unfortunately for her, however, she had had no real fear of death and been pulled from the mortal world barely a second after she died. Then a lot of things had happened so quickly that she was barely aware of them happening and certainly didn't have time to properly register that they had happened until it was all over.

What had happened was, of course, that her magic had pulled her through the non-space between the human world and the afterlife. In passing through the separating non-material her apparent shape had been dissolved and the particles that formed her soul had been held together by only her magic. Because her magic was too busy holding her together it couldn't control when or where she ended up – heck, there wasn't really any guarantee that they really arrived on the other side; they might just get thrown back out in the human world. But no matter where she had ended up her magic alone hadn't been able to put her back together properly and so she had latched on to the closest soul that had been strong enough to help her.

She was stable now. The little soul had given her stability, yes, but the price had been high. She was trapped here, she knew. This place, the inner world of another soul, was where she was forced to live out her afterlife. She would never get to meet her parents, her husband, her children or her friends. She was all alone in here and the only person she would meet was the little soul she was attached to.

It was a heavy realization, that she would most likely never see anyone she knew again. She realised that silent tears were making their way down her cheeks and tried to wipe them away, but it was no use. In the end, the pain of it all became too much and she broke down in sobs. She cried until she had no tears left and afterwards she was so tired that she could hardly remain conscious. She gave in to the demands of her spirit-body and drifted away into sleep. Surely, by the time she woke up, she would be in a better mental shape to deal with the adjustment to this new life.

Hermione woke up to a still rather dark world. It wasn't the shape-less absolute darkness of a new-born anymore, but still mostly dark and shapeless. A tiny light shone from a lantern that hung above her. The lantern was in a traditional Japanese style; a small, round thing clad in thin paper. It was a plain yellow colour, she noticed, no decorations or anything of the sort.

In the light of the tiny lantern she began to explore what little of her new home she could. Most hadn't formed yet, as her gracious host was so small still. From what she could tell, she was situated on something that seemed suspiciously like a wooden bridge. The wood underneath her was plain and easy to feel and see, as were the plain wooden railing on either side of her. She couldn't see either end of the bridge, but she suspected that that was because there was nothing at either end yet. It would come, eventually, but for now this was it.

She reached out a hand to see if she could feel what was under the bridge, but stopped at the sight of her hand. Her hand didn't look like she remembered it. She knew her magic hadn't been able to hold her together properly, but surely it should have been able to make her at least look somewhat like she used to. But apparently that wasn't the case.

Her fingers were considerably longer than she remembered; longer and thinner. She thought it looked like it was a different colour too, but it was hard to tell in the yellow light from the lantern. The nails were completely gone and replaced with something that looked like sharp scales or claws. They were dark, so dark that she felt fairly certain that they were black.

This discovery prompted her to try and get a better look at the rest of her appearance. She couldn't see very well and she had no mirror to help her, but it looked like she had a human or humanoid shape. That was good. She was dressed in what looked (and felt) like a bathing suit, something that could be some kind of wide trousers, but could also have been a long, wide skirt and something that kind of reminded of a jacket or a coat. The material was thinner, though; soft and light. The arms only came down to about her elbows, leaving her forearms bare, and hung open to reveal the bathing suit-like garment she wore underneath. The bathing suit was dark, while the trousers/skirt-thing and coat-thing were light in colour.

Her feet were bare and looked more or less human. The nails had changed the same way that they had on her hands, but that was the most obvious difference. Well, that and the colour.

She felt for her hair, to try and determine how that could have changed. It seemed to have become suddenly tame overnight and lay in a fashion similar to how she had worn it at the yule ball all those years ago. That was about as much as she could determine without a mirror and better light though, and she would have to wait for those until her host grew up a bit.

Having satisfied her curiosity with her appearance for now, she turned back to her original task. She reached out once more to see if there was water under the bridge. As it were, there was definitely water under it. She couldn't see it among the black, but she could feel it. It was cool and still and deep. She just knew somehow that it was deep, much deeper than she could determine with just the hand she had lowered into the dark water.

Was this… Was this the result of her tears, her crying, earlier? The thought came unbidden, but it didn't feel entirely unlikely. She had cried so much and so long and there had truly been nothing here when she came. It wasn't that far-fetched that her tears had become the vast waters on which there was only a single, short bridge so far.

Sighing she made herself comfortable on the bridge. She couldn't do much else before her world became a little bigger. She barely noticed that she had left that one arm hanging off the bridge and that her hand was still in the water. Instead she listened to the silence. No, it wasn't quite silent. There was a sound, a faint steady sound. It sounded like… It was a heart beating. She almost smiled to herself. She would live her afterlife to the sound of another's heartbeat. She absently wondered if she always would. She hoped so; it was a sound she didn't mind at all.


	2. Chapter 2

A Place in Your Soul

_**Summary:**_ For ordinary humans, afterlife was a relatively simple matter; you went there, existed there for your allotted time and then had your spirit particles recycled, much like the makeup of the physical body is recycled after death. For witches and wizards, however, things weren't quite that simple.

_**A/N:**_ I realised that I probably should mention that I wrote this for _Nidaime Otokage – Yoko no Oto_'s zanpakuto challenge. I forgot to do that last chapter… Sorry about that, but now you know.

**Chapter Two: In Which Ginny Arrives in Her Afterlife**

Ginny was by many considered a though one. She not only outlived six brothers and a husband; she outlived all three of her children as well. Many were those who marvelled at the tough old woman who seemed to greet her grandchildren with the energy and enthusiasm of a woman the quarter of her actual age. When she finally passed away at the impressive age of 182, it was in her sleep.

The ceremony was small and private, with only the closest still living family attending. Ginny Potter had been quite the unremarkable woman as far as the world was concerned, and would only be remembered for two reasons; that she was the wife of the "saviour of the wizarding world" and because she had set a new age record.

No-one would remember the thrifty young woman who had played with the Hollyhead Harpies for a few years and who had declined an offer to play for the national quidditch team because she wanted to spend all her time and attention on raising her children; nor the woman who had spent over twenty years raising said children and watched them grow with pride and love. They wouldn't remember the woman who had picked up a part-time job after the youngest left home, only to end up with two different ones that she both liked enough not to be able to decide and who had worked both those jobs until a bad fall that wouldn't heal properly because of her age had to retire from one of them at the age of 92. She had then switched to working full time at the other job until her final retirement at 122. The last 60 years of her life she spent as the administrator of a non-profit organisation in the spirit of her long-dead friend Hermione. She also spent quite a bit of time with her living descendants, watching more than one generation of Potters grow into astonishing young witches and wizards.

She had been the undisputed matriarch of the Potter family, and she had been a good one. She had lived up to the superstition of red-heads having a fiery temper and over all she had tried her very best to lead a fulfilling life. Many, Ginny herself included, would say that she had succeeded in that at least. She had gone her own way about things and had come out all the better for it. So, when the time came and death wanted to claim her she had no regrets about life. She had long since made peace with the thought of death and thought she knew what she was in for. How very wrong she was…

After her very dramatic and confusing encounter with what dying meant for a witch or wizard she found herself in the vast empty space of an inner world that had yet to take on a solid shape. It was a very lonely place to end up, but it was also very precious. She would get to see this through from the very beginning, from the very first notion of shape. She would get to watch this girl grow into an independent woman. She was absolutely certain that the soul she had latched on to was a girl; a strong, stubborn little girl.

She smiled to herself. The afterlife would have been boring without a purpose. She was going to look after this strong little girl, now she just had to learn how. She would have to watch over her somehow, and she needed to learn whatever it was she was supposed to teach the girl one day. She knew instinctively that she'd be visited by this little girl one day, when her girl was ready to face her.

Unbeknownst to Ginny, she was already laying the most basic of outline for the world she was to live in. It would have to have a place where she could watch her girl's life and a place meant for diligent training. What she did notice, though, was that somehow the vast darkness seemed a little lighter.

This still shapeless place was very different from what she was used to, so as something of an experiment she sat down. To her mild surprise and delight she found that the darkness seemed to have understood what she wanted and provided support in the right places. So there was a definite advantage to it not having formed yet; she didn't need to think about getting to a specific place to sit comfortably. She suspected this also held true for whatever else she decided to do.

Suddenly curious, she stood back up and started walking around. It felt pretty pointless as there was nothing to see anywhere and therefore felt like you weren't getting anywhere. Which she supposed was technically true. There wasn't anything there yet, after all. All the same, she moved a little bit more. There was something; something was definitely different. She felt different. She didn't feel like she was 182 years old. No, she felt – she felt young. She felt energetic. She felt like she could just jump onto a broom and re-joint the Harpies. It felt amazing, though she had no idea if it was a natural side-effect of dying, or if it was something that had accidentally happened when she had tried to cross over.

She said "tried to", even in her own mind, because she doubted anything that felt like _that_ could ever have been successful. Besides, she had been too unstable for it to have been a complete success anyway. While she didn't mind this arrangement, it meant that she had done something wrong.

It didn't interest her too much right now, however, as she couldn't do so much about her current situation anyways. And besides, she was very curious about her apparent new youth, and about the rules of this not-yet-formed world. For example; was there an up and down here? She would have to try that out, although she didn't think there should be. Logically, since nothing had formed yet, there shouldn't be an "up" or a "down".

Experimentally, she flipped herself around – only to start falling. It was certainly a different sensation, falling in a vast nothingness. But it wasn't really going to be nice when she hit a newly formed ground. Not at all, so she figured that she needed to stop falling. The question then was, obviously, how to do that.

A memory came to her, a memory connected to the quidditch analogy she had made earlier. Maybe it would even work. She remembered the feeling of a steep dive, the ground rushing up to meet her. Then came the feeling of levelling out, coming to hover just above the ground. She remembered the movements and her body followed them with the same skill and grace that she had once had. Who would have thought?

As she levelled out and felt the nothingness rise up to support her once more, she noticed something. A stretch above her, and to one side, was a speck of something that differed from the endless nothingness. It was a hint of solidity. It was the very first piece of ground in this place. She wanted to get back up there, to see it up close. But she had fallen quite some way, so how would she get back up? Well, she supposed that the easiest way would be to just walk there. It would take a while, but with a goal the walk wouldn't feel as pointless as before.

Slowly, steadily she walked towards the little spot of ground, rising with each step like a staircase. Each step took her closer to her goal, but the walk was long. She had fallen so far before she had figured out how to stop. But she was pretty sure she had her current surroundings figured out. They would change when her girl grew up, but right now she felt sure that she would be able to adjust. She would learn the rules; no, she would master them. She didn't really have anything better to do, now did she?

It took a long time, but she did reach the spot of solid existence. It seemed to be some sort of stone or rocky surface forming. It was considerably lighter in colour than the vast darkness surrounding it. She reached out to touch it. The surface was rough and hard, just like she remembered stone to be.

Realising that, for all intents and purposes, she was petting a rock caused her to shake her head and chuckle in mild disbelief. This wasn't exactly how she pictured her afterlife to be. That thought sent a sharp sting through her chest. Her afterlife… She had imagined that she would get to see them all again when she died. Her brothers, her parents, her husband, her friends… For the first time it really hit her how lonely an existence she was really condemned to, and all because she had somehow not managed to get to the afterlife in a stable state. A single tear slid down her cheek. Were they there, she wondered, safe and sound? Were they laughing and enjoying their afterlife together? Were they waiting for her?

She wanted to imagine they were. She wanted them to be safe, happy and together. She wouldn't be there, but she hoped that they would.

"I'm sorry," she spoke into the silence. "I won't be able to make it. Something came up, but you should go on and have fun without me."

Sighing, she lay her head against the rough, recently formed surface. It was warm, like it had been in direct sunlight for several hours. She didn't cry, not like one might have expected, and she didn't throw a fit. She just felt very, very lonely. The anger would come later, she figured, when her mind had processed it enough, when the longing and loneliness weren't quite so overwhelming anymore. Then she could throw a fit and display her infamous red-head temper. Besides, she consoled herself, she wouldn't be alone forever. She just had to wait for a little girl to grow up and realise that she was there, waiting inside her soul. It would probably be a long wait, years and years, but it wasn't forever. Maybe if she kept telling herself that she wouldn't feel quite so lonely anymore.


End file.
